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As soon as the media obligations were over, Charles was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately for Ferrari, the Monegasque driver was in no mood for a lecture about his “bad” behavior on the radio. Fortunately for Max, however, Charles was very much in the mood to get wasted. Like the year before, Charles joined his boyfriend’s celebrations several hours past midnight. Hidden under Max’s hoodie, he weaved through the crowd of people gathered to celebrate the Dutchman’s fourth world championship.
Even though Red Bull’s parties were always highly private and strictly phone-free, Charles wasn’t going to take the risk of exposing himself openly celebrating an enemy’s victory. Silvia would eat him alive. No matter how pissed he was with his team, he wasn’t about to risk rumors about leaving Ferrari. Especially not after a public disagreement. However, the hoodie wasn’t doing a great job of concealing him from anyone who knew him, but Charles was already too drunk to care.
Earlier, after answering numerous questions about his outburst against Carlos, Charles’ first instinct was to drink. To get wasted. The whole circus felt like too much to handle sober. The fan reactions, Ferrari’s lack of support—he was exhausted. Worst of all, he couldn’t vent to his favorite person, Max, because Max had just won the championship after countless hardships. This day was about Max’s happiness, not Charles’ grievances.
When Charles finally reached the man of the night—not Russell, obviously—he forced a big smile and hugged Max tightly. It was absolute torture, though. Not being able to kiss his boyfriend when he looked so glorious drenched in champagne felt criminal. But you know what else should be a crime? Seeing his worst enemy (maybe that was an exaggeration, but you get the idea) enjoying himself at the bar as if he hadn’t just sabotaged Charles’ championship hopes and helped Ferrari into a PR nightmare. That, plus the fact that Charles knew that Silvia would make him regret every second of his radio outburst. She probably already had ten hours of “Charlos” content programmed into his calendar as punishment. Seeing him so nonchalant made his eyes darkened as he stepped away.
« What is he doing here? » Charles asked indignantly, unable to stop himself. He really didn’t want to see Carlos tonight.
« What do you mean? It’s Carlos, » Max replied. The dutch knew that Charles and Carlos had a complicated relationship, being teammates could be hard in this sport, but usually they didn’t drag their arguments out of the circuit.
« Exactly! It’s Carlos! »
Max looked at Charles as if he had grown a second head. He hadn’t had time to check social media or catch up on race drama. If he had, he might have understood why his boyfriend was so upset.
« Are you high? »
« What? No! You know what? If he’s here, I’m leaving. »
« Leaving? Charles, you can’t be serious. »
« I’m not leaving the party, Max—just this area. I’m not in the mood to deal with—»
Charles was interrupted by a newcomer.
« Oh, look who’s here. How surprising! Not sulking in your room anymore? »
Carlos’ mocking tone made Charles’ skin crawl. He clenched his fists, using every ounce of self-control to stay calm.
« I mean, you seemed pretty close to crying on the radio! Was that all an act to get pity from the fans? Well, that sure didn’t work! »
Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
Charles’ breath grew heavier. Carlos was just trying to provoke him, to paint himself as the nice guy. Yeah no. Not on Charles’ watch.
« What’s your fucking problem, mate? »
Oh.
Max clearly didn’t like this game between the two Ferrari drivers.
He didn’t like the way the older one was talking to his boyfriend.
« Max. Stop pretending you like this prick. We all know you’re friendly with him for PR, like we all are. Honestly, who could like Charles for anything else »
« What the fuck is wrong with you, Sainz? » Charles couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes. He knew Carlos disliked him, but this? It stung more than he wanted to admit.
Before anyone could react, Max’s fist connected with Carlos’ jaw.
Oops.
Carlos looked utterly scandalized. Thankfully, no one noticed the commotion, but Carlos was clearly in shock. He hadn’t expected the punch to come from Max rather than Charles. And maybe now was a good time to mention that Carlos—nor anyone else, for that matter—had no idea that the Ferrari and Red Bull drivers had been secretly dating for five years. They were very discreet about it, even though the Lestappen fangirls would argue otherwise. Only a handful of close friends and family were aware of their relationship.
« Get out. I never want to see you at one of my parties again. Asshole. »
« Are you serious right now? You punch me and then kick me out? Fuck you! »
Carlos fumed before storming out of the bar, his angry strides making his fury unmistakable.
« Max! What the hell was that? Your hand! You’re so dumb, oh my god…» Charles grabbed Max’s hand, inspecting it closely. « You need your hands to work, espèce d’idiot! » he scolded, though a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
After ensuring Max was okay, Charles lifted his head to meet his eyes.
« You looked hot defending me, » Charles admitted. « But I’m afraid you’re on his shit list now. He’ll make your race weekends hell. »
« I don’t care; it’s not like he’s going to be anywhere near us next season. » Max replied, smirking. « Better that than letting that dick talk to my boyfriend like that. »
Charles clapped immediately a hand over Max’s mouth.
« We’re in public, idiot! Don’t call me that! »
Max pushed Charles’ hand away.
« What if I want to? What if I want everyone to know you’re mine? »
Charles’ cheeks turned bright pink.
« What if I told you to go for it? »
Their clash with Carlos already forgotten, Max leaned in closer, his attention fully on the brown-haired boy in front of him.
« Can I kiss you, then? »
« Always. »
Under the stars on the balcony, the two men kissed passionately. During that moment, nothing else mattered. Their complicated day melted away in each other’s arms. If anyone saw them, they didn’t care. They were done tired of hiding their love.
Live your life to the fullest—life’s too short to waste it.
« So... If we’re going public, does that mean you’re finally going to follow me on Instagram? »
« It’s nice to have dreams, Verstappen. » giggled the other boy.